


what's better than this?

by seinmit



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: (It's Not Just Friends), Couch Sex, Dirty Talk, Facials, First Time, Friends With Benefits, Just Friends Bro, M/M, Mutual Pining, Very Gentle Humiliation, messy blow job, they're both into it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:47:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22343566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seinmit/pseuds/seinmit
Summary: It had been Bucky's idea. Sam wanted to keep that in mind as he evaluated the whole thing, but he couldn't tell himself he'd never looked Bucky over. Bucky was an attractive guy, especially nowadays. He was built, but he'd lost some of the aggressive thickness he'd maintained on the run, and now that he'd chopped off his hair, he wasn't quite so much MCR-fan-circa-2008. His new uniform was less aggressively bondage gear, and in general, he'd gone through an upgrade from scary assassin (who would maybe fuck you through a wall) to wise Wakandan hermit (who would probably give you a very sage hand-job) back to all-American beefcake who would bring your Mama flowers, while you sat there trying not to think about how good the sex was.The point was: Sam had thought about it, even before Bucky brought it up.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Comments: 19
Kudos: 283
Collections: Return to the Iron Triangle - January 2020





	what's better than this?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chase_asock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chase_asock/gifts).



> Title comes from [this vine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YzSVmsrJEzk), because I refused to allow myself to call it "guys being dudes." (This was the working title of the document.)

It had been Bucky's idea. Sam wanted to keep that in mind as he evaluated the whole thing, but he couldn't tell himself he'd never looked Bucky over. Bucky was an attractive guy, especially nowadays. He was built, but he'd lost some of the aggressive thickness he'd maintained on the run, and now that he'd chopped off his hair, he wasn't quite so much MCR-fan-circa-2008. His new uniform was less aggressively bondage gear, and in general, he'd gone through an upgrade from scary assassin (who would maybe fuck you through a wall) to wise Wakandan hermit (who would probably give you a very sage hand-job) back to all-American beefcake who would bring your Mama flowers, while you sat there trying not to think about how good the sex was.

The point was: Sam had thought about it, even before Bucky brought it up. 

"I guess that's a no, then?" Bucky said, his cheeks a little pink. He reached up and ran his fingers through his hair. He probably didn't mean to show off the way his muscles moved in that shirt, but it was nice to look at. 

"Not a no," Sam said, clearing his throat. "I’m _considering_. I'm a thoughtful kinda guy." 

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Yeah, okay," he said. "Are you going to treat this like you did that fucking couch?" 

Now it was Sam's turn to glare. "Buying a couch is a significant decision. You know how much time we spend on that couch? And there are so many options—"

"It's a couch! You had an entire folder of print-outs. I went with you to at least _six_ different furniture stores. Back in my day—"

Sam groaned theatrically, but Bucky kept talking, getting louder. The skin around his eyes was wrinkled a little bit with a suppressed smile, his eyes bright and cheerful. Between words, he had to pause and get his mouth under control, because it kept trying to twitch into laughter—Sam's eyes were caught by that, his pink lips. 

"Back in my day, we got our couch when my great-aunt died, and we considered ourselves lucky. Who needs this many options for couches? You used to be able to buy a car, a nice car, with the amount of money you spent—"

Sam threw himself back on the couch. It was an excellent fucking couch, big enough to support both of them at once, which was saying something—they were not small. It was comfortable, the right sort of sink without swallowing you up. He was proud of this couch, it was a great decision. 

"You're no longer allowed on the couch, Barnes," Sam said. "You've lost privileges with your disrespect."

"Oh yeah?" Bucky said, eyebrows going up. He stalked toward Sam, some strange echo of the Winter Soldier in his movement. This was a very odd seduction, as far as they went, but right now, it was working for Sam, he could feel it tight in his belly. 

Bucky kept eye-contact, face serious, as he slowly, carefully, methodically sat his ass down on the couch. 

"What are you going to do about it?" he said, voice flat, almost menacing. 

Sam's heart rate picked up. His eyes narrowed, and he considered his options. 

With the speed of a snake, he reached out and ran his hands through Bucky's hair—not in the careful, cool-guy way Bucky had mastered, but with abandon. He was going to mess up that perfect coif, and Bucky knew it—he squawked, batting Sam's hands away unsuccessfully. Sam knew Bucky could take him out in ten seconds flat if he wanted to, so the impact of his hands felt as playful as a kitten. 

By the time Sam was done, Bucky looked like a startled hedgehog, and he was grinning, helplessly. He could never restrain himself from smiling when Sam touched him—he'd sometimes fake being cranky, but even when the touch was to tease or pinch, he'd go pink and lean into it. Maybe Sam should have seen this coming. 

"Run me through your proposal again," Sam said. His voice was rough, a little throaty. Bucky's eyes went dark, and he leaned back, horizontal on the couch now, having tried to protect himself. His head was resting on the arm, and he put both of his hands behind it, opening up his chest. That was definitely on purpose. 

"I was thinking," he said slowly. "That we could try out the friends with benefits thing. Do you want me to make you a chart or something?" 

"Yeah?" Sam said. "Why me?"

Bucky's eyes closed off, for just a breath, before opening back up into the flirty playfulness. 

"Because we're friends, Wilson," Bucky said. "I don't have many of those." 

"I could show you how to work Grindr," Sam said. He wasn't sure why he was pushing this, but he had to know if Bucky could be deflected. It felt important. 

Bucky looked away, eyes settling on some empty point on the floor. "Yeah, it's—I'm not going to be able to do strangers. Not for a while." _If ever_ was unsaid. 

Sam had gotten on Bucky's case about declaring things impossible for himself for life. Sam didn't really blame him for this one, though. Sam himself didn't deal well with strangers in intimate situations. 

But Sam and Bucky weren't strangers—they were friends, partners. Roommates, even, because Bucky had asked to live with him when they moved back to the States. He was sick of living alone, and Sam didn't really want to be alone either, not in the aftermath of everything. They'd both been sore and aching from Steve—well. That wasn't important now. 

What was important was the way that Sam could see Bucky's shoulders curling up right under his eyes, making himself smaller. The open and inviting body language was being put away like it had never been. 

"It's not a big deal," Bucky said. "Turns out there are more blue movies than I could've even imagined—"

"Can the grandpa act, man," Sam said. "Look at me." 

Bucky's eyes snapped to Sam's—he always was prompt in following orders. 

"Why'd you ask me, Bucky?" 

Something about the stubborn set of Bucky's jaw reminded Sam of Steve and Sam really needed to learn to put that guy out of his mind in situations like this. 

"We're friends," Bucky said. "I trust you. And—well. I like looking at you. You seem, sometimes, to like looking at me." 

Sam let his gaze drag down the length of Bucky's body, spread out on the couch. Bucky unfurled underneath his eyes, shoulders going open, thighs spreading—one of his legs was up on the couch, bare feet digging into the soft fabric and knee up. The other moved to land flat on the ground. He was making space, there, if Sam chose to crawl between his legs. 

Bucky's eyes were waiting for Sam when he turned back to Bucky's face. His seriousness was maybe a bit much for the moment—fuckbuddies were supposed to a be a lighthearted sorta thing, after all. But it felt right. 

"Not bad," Sam said, finally. "You smell a little bit like mothballs, but I can—"

Bucky rolled his eyes and surged up, effortless, grabbing Sam's t-shirt and dragging him down. 

"Kiss me," Bucky said. 

Sam? Well. He'd been military, too, and he could follow orders just fine. 

When he kissed Bucky, he tasted his own mint gum—Bucky usually preferred nasty clove-flavored stuff. Bucky had been planning this, enough to make sure he tasted good to Sam, and the thought made Sam force his way deeper into Bucky's mouth. Bucky opened easily for him, sighing, all welcoming wet warmth. 

Sam shifted on top of Bucky, settling his weight between Bucky's legs, and Bucky's hand let go of his t-shirt to wrap around Sam's body, running up and down his back. Bucky was a big man, strong and capable, but he felt soft like this, warm and cozy. He let Sam control the depth of the kiss, and Sam was happy to do it, glad to lick his way into Bucky's mouth and gently tug his bottom lip with teeth. 

Bucky was vocal, which he hadn't expected. Not loud, but he made a dozen little noises—hums and sighs, breath catching in his throat unaspirated. He was so fucking responsive, so ready for it instantly—it made Sam's head spin. 

When Sam pulled back—not wanting to go, but wanting to see—the view made his gut clench. Bucky's lips were shiny and his skin was flushed—pink on his cheeks from his blood pumping and pink around his mouth, the slightest bit of abrasion from Sam's beard. Bucky's eyes were wide, pupils dilated, and he licked his lips as he looked up at Sam. It was definitely enough to make Sam dive back in, kiss him harder. He rocked his hips down into Bucky and swallowed the gasp that followed. 

One of Bucky's thighs hooked over Sam's hips, and he arched up into him. Sam bit his way down Bucky's jawline, and just like he thought—Bucky made all kinds of noises, now that his mouth was free. In the spirit of experimentation, Sam bit down on Bucky's neck, opening his mouth to suck after his teeth dug in. Bucky moaned, loud—enough that Sam could feel it reverberate from his chest. 

He could feel Bucky shudder, and his hips hitch up. Sam kept biting, he wanted to make this happen—this was just casual, right, just friends, but he was all in. He was all the way fucking in, and that thought—man, it made him think about being _in_ , about fucking Bucky—if he was this responsive, just from some making out on the couch like teenagers, what—

Sam had to follow his instincts—he always did—and he slipped a hand between them. He fumbled a little bit with Bucky's button-fly jeans. Who the fuck wore button-flies—at Bucky's breathless chuckle, he realized he said that aloud—but before long he managed it, got his hand in Bucky's boxers and around his dick. 

Bucky moaned again, head falling back, and that was an excellent opportunity to see how long he could make a hickey stick. Sam sucked a mark on Bucky's pulse-point and enjoyed the warm velvet weight of Bucky's dick in his hand, how it was already slick from Bucky's pre-come. He wanted to see it, but Bucky was already fucking _whimpering_ , already close. He didn't want to tease too much, not yet. 

"You like that, baby?" Sam said, against Bucky's skin. "It's been a while, huh? I can tell. I can tell you need this." 

"Fuck," Bucky cursed. "Oh, fuck, Sam—"

"I'll give it to you," Sam promised, digging his teeth into the thick muscle where Bucky's shoulder met his neck. Thank god for v-necks, more space to move. Bucky choked on his own breath, humping his hips up into Sam's hand, and came with a gasp. 

"A little bit of a hair-trigger, huh?" Sam couldn't help but tease, but his voice was fond. Bucky went red—redder, his face already flushed, breathing through parted lips. His eyelids were low over his blue eyes, and his gaze was hazy. He blinked up at Sam. 

"Yeah," he said, his voice a little embarrassed—but with a note to it that Sam liked, that he wanted to explore. 

"That's okay," Sam said, magnanimous. "I'll have plenty more chances, right? No need for this to be a one-off fuckbuddy type thing, right?" 

Bucky bit his lip and said, "No. No—I, uh. I was kinda thinking it could be regular."

"Yeah," Sam said. He could hear the hunger in his voice. "I bet you were. I can tell that you'll want it all the time, huh? You're easy for it, Barnes. Who’d've thought you of all people would be easy?" 

Bucky groaned, eyes falling shut, and he arched up underneath Sam. Sam's hand was still in his pants, sticky come cooling, but he swore he felt Bucky's cock twitch.

"Nope," Sam said. "Imma get mine before you get round two, super-soldier." 

"Friends play fair," Bucky agreed, breathless, but he moaned really pretty when Sam squeezed his dick before pulling away. Bucky dragged himself up, supporting himself on his elbows and looked up at Sam, his eyes dark and wanting on Sam's body. Sam liked that—he could get used to being looked at like that. It was always hot to be desired, but it was especially good knowing that it was Bucky doing the wanting—Bucky was so self-contained with most people, so he knew it really meant something when Sam was allowed to see him vulnerable. That was what this was—Sam knew Bucky really well, it made it hit harder. The benefit of having sex with friends. 

"What do you want from me?" Bucky said, his voice low. "I have to warn you, it's, uh—it's been a really long time. So I might be—"

Sam had to stop him talking, or this would be over too fast, and unlike Bucky, he didn't have a round two in him—at least not immediately. He reached up and pressed his thumb gently on Bucky's bottom lip. Bucky opened for it, so easy, and Sam felt his balls ache. 

"You wanna try?" Sam asked. "No big if you don't."

He didn't mean to dare him, but he figured that was the way Bucky took it when Bucky opened his mouth enough to suck Sam's thumb in all the way, swirling his tongue around it. Yeah, this was a good idea, Sam thought. He liked the look of that, alright. 

Bucky let go of his thumb, but Sam didn't have time to complain. He slid out from under Sam and off the couch, going to his knees in front of it—reaching out, he maneuvered Sam how he wanted him, with effortless strength. That was pretty fucking hot, too. 

Bucky spread his palms out, one on each of Sam's thighs. 

"Let me know if I fuck this up somehow," Bucky said, sliding them up. 

Sam laughed and reached down to undo his belt, take his own dick out. 

"I don't think you can get it that wrong," Sam said. "Not with how thirsty you look." 

His eyes fluttered closed at that, and he kept them close, sinking down into Sam's lap by touch and smell or something, fuck. He licked at the head of Sam's cock, his tongue finding the tender slit, and Sam jacked himself once. Bucky pushed Sam's hand away, replaced it with his flesh one. 

"Greedy for it?" Sam said. "You want it all to yourself? What an asshole, Barnes." 

Bucky snorted, running his mouth down the side of Sam's dick. Sam couldn't tell if he was consciously teasing or working himself up to it—either way, it was hot as fuck. 

"Yeah, Wilson, I'm too greedy for your dick, how you struggle," he said. And with that, he swallowed Sam down—not all the way, but enough to make heat race down Sam's spine, settling in his gut. It was so fucking hot—literally hot, Bucky running warmer than most humans, and wet—and Bucky's hand spread the liquid of his spit all the way up and down the shaft. 

Bucky sighed around him and bobbed his head, making slick noises of wanting. Sam could barely believe it when the metal hand disappeared between Bucky's own legs, but he could tell when Bucky started to touch himself because his whole body moved—he rocked his hips down into his hand and his head down on Sam's dick, and this was hot as hellfire. 

"Jesus fuck," Sam said. "Oh, baby, look at you—you really are gagging for it." 

Bucky took that as a command and pushed himself far enough down that Sam could feel the clench of his throat muscles around his cock, the way they tried to push him out—but Bucky ignored his body, forced himself to take it. Sam felt the thick wet choking sound like a thousand-pound punch. 

"Fuck," he said. "Why'd you wait so long, huh? This dick was always here for you."

Blue eyes snapped open and looked up to meet his, but if Bucky meant to glare, it wasn't very effective. They were glazed over, a little wet, and Sam fucked up into his mouth, very gently—he was already on the edge and Bucky could take it, clearly wanted to fucking take it. 

He let his hand fall into Bucky's hair, but instead of messing with it like he usually did, he smoothed it out—a repetitive petting motion, shaky, like he needed some form of contact other than Bucky blowing his mind through his dick. 

The thing that did it, that made it impossible for Sam to hold on anymore, was the moaning sound of Bucky coming around his cock, the way he saw the big muscles in Bucky's back twitch and shudder. 

He grunted and came, not even able to warn him. Bucky swallowed the first mouthful, but then he pulled off, let it spill over his fingers, his lips, in the cleft of his chin. He was a fucking mess—come and spit making his skin shiny. He was beautiful, Sam couldn't lie to himself—he maybe lucked out with this fuckbuddies plan. 

Sam ran his fingers down his cheek and used his thumb to clean up a bit of come that had dripped. Before he could do anything with it, though, Bucky dipped his head to lick it up off of Sam's finger. Jesus _Christ._

He sat back on the couch, panting. "I could use a beer, not gonna lie."

"Cost-benefit analysis," Bucky said, still on his knees. His voice was rough. "That's what you called it, right? With the couch? Costs: you never stop talking, you come without warning, you're too pushy—"

"Benefit," Sam said, interrupting, and grabbed his soft cock expressively. "This dick and how much you like all of that, don't bullshit me."

Bucky laughed and pulled himself up. He smiled down at Sam, with come still glistening on his face. This might kill Sam, it was very possible. 

"One beer for his majesty," Bucky said. When he walked away, there was a little hitch in his step—from coming in his boxers a couple times, certainly, not anything else. It got Sam thinking, though. 

"Man, shut the fuck up," he said, a little too late. Bucky laughed at him from the kitchen, and Sam felt warm all the way through.


End file.
